Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (2 page)

I sit up, seeing those innocent blue eyes looking entirely too worried for my liking. “I'm fine, Luce,” I mutter as she sits down next to me on the couch. Patrick and Jon have their arms folded over their chests and the mean look they learned from me on their faces. They are standing up, one at each end of the couch.

My baby sister wraps her arms around me in a hug and whispers, “No, you're not, and that's okay.”

Ugh. This is why they brought her. None of us can stand to let Lucy know when something's wrong, even though we know she's more than strong enough to handle it. She's stronger than I am. That probably hurts the most.

Luce leans back to look at me, a frown on her face. “Do you want to talk about it? They said this is because you can't play anymore. You know we love you anyway and that you still have a bright future ahead of you, right?”

I lock my jaw. What bright future is she talking about? The only bright future I ever had was with football and that's gone. It disappeared down the drain, was thrown out the window, vanished into thin air. Lucy doesn't get it. None of them do. It's pointless to try and explain it to them.

Instead, I ignore everything she said and reply, “I love y'all too.”

Lucy stares at me for the longest time, struggling with whatever she's thinking. Finally, she glances around my apartment. “Let's get this place cleaned up, and you should shower before work.”

I glance around the room at each of them. They've cornered me. If Lucy wasn't here, I'd tell them to fuck off and lie back down. But she is here, so I sigh, stand, and retreat defeatedly to the shower. By the time I finish and have changed into my work clothes—black jeans and a black shirt—I reenter the living room to see that my apartment is completely clean again. Lucy is just finishing up the vacuuming.

My brothers glare at me, and I send them a nasty look right back, not only for coming, but for bringing our baby sister. Lucy reaches down to turn off the machine and smiles at me.

“Ready for work?”

“Yeah,” I lie. I go over and sit on the couch.

Luce puts away the vacuum cleaner and comes to sit next to me again. She leans her head on my shoulder as Patrick and Jon find themselves seats as well. “Are you going to be okay, Corey?” she asks softly. “Maybe you should talk to someone or—”

“I'll be fine,” I cut her off to reassure her, resting my head against hers so she won't take the interruption as a negative thing. “I need more time to figure out what I'm supposed to do now, that's all.” No need to tell her that there's nothing left for me to do.

I lift my head as Lucy does. She looks at me and scrunches her nose in confusion. “What do you mean? You finish your degree and start your career.”

“That's not what he's talking about, Luce,” Patrick says. If anyone understands, it's him. He manages to have at least a little understanding of everything. It pisses me off, really. It might be why he's a psychology major, though. “He means without football.” Patrick has been injured a few times, so he probably knows what it's like to be hurt, but he doesn't know what it's like to have the simple possibility of playing taken away forever.

Lucy opens her mouth, but then closes it. She gives me a hug and whispers, “You're my big brother and I love you no matter what.”

Her words are numb to me, as if they hold no real meaning. “I love you too, Luce,” I reply automatically. With it being time for me to head to work, I grab my things and we all walk outside to our vehicles. We say our goodbyes, but my mind has already checked out, my actions just going through the motions.

When I get to work, I kiss the boss man's ass to make up for missing work and thank him for not firing me yet. The good thing about my job is that it's pretty mindless work for the most part. The entire time, I'm wishing I was at home instead. Time moves extra slowly, but quitting time does eventually come.

I'm walking up the stairs to my apartment when I hear, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck! Please, no, no, no.”

As I reach the top of the staircase, I see a girl standing outside the door across the hall from mine, frantically twisting the doorknob. She hits the door with an open palm and lets out another curse, resting her forehead against the door in defeat. She must be my new neighbor, who has been noisy as she moves in her stuff.

“Everything okay?” I reluctantly voice as I head to my door.

Her brown hair is cut short, hanging an inch or two above her shoulders. Before she turns to face me, she snaps, “No, everything is not okay!” Her angry brown eyes land on me, but her shoulders slump in defeat. My eyes scan over her. She's in green pajama shorts and a hoodie. She's beautiful. Must be freezing, though. Why she's wearing shorts and not pants, I don't know. I would think if it's cold enough for a hoodie, then it's too cold for shorts. “I locked myself out,” she says, much calmer now. The girl takes a deep breath. “Sorry for yelling at you. It's been a bad day. Is there any way I could borrow your phone?”

“I...um...mine is broken, sorry,” I say, remembering throwing it against the wall earlier.

Tears suddenly well up in her eyes, her lower lip trembling. My first instinct is to unlock my door and leave her, but I would be pissed if someone didn't offer help to Luce when she needed it.

As I unlock my door, I tell her, “C'mon. You must be freezing.” I push it open and turn, but she makes no movement towards me.

“I don't know you,” she states simply.

“I don't know you either. You can come in or stay outside until you figure out what you want to do, but you have exactly three seconds to make a decision. I don't care either way.” With that, I head for my kitchen, leaving the door open in case she does come in. I've just opened the fridge when I hear the door close. “Want something to drink? It's Mountain Dew or beer.” I'll keep my Bourbon to myself for later.

“Mountain Dew is fine. Thank you,” she adds when I hand her one, keeping one for myself. She follows me into the living room, taking a seat in the chair. I toss her the blanket laying over the back of the couch. “Thanks.”

“What's your name?”

“Olivia.”

“I'm Corey,” I offer, sitting down on the couch. She glances around the room for a moment while I watch her. I'm not sure where to go from here. It's not every day that I'm a social butterfly, interacting with others and being nice and helpful. Olivia's eyes land on mine, as an awkward air of silence and discomfort engulfs us. Clearing my throat, I ask, “How did you lock yourself out?”

A laugh escapes her lips as she brings her legs up into the chair. “I ran out to my car because I forgot my cell phone, but halfway to my car, I realized I forgot my car keys and wouldn't be able to open the doors. When I came back, the doorknob was locked, so I couldn't get back inside.” There's something about her voice and the way she rattled on that's a bit soothing.

With my phone being broken and she not having hers, we're in a bind. My body has already begun to shut down with exhaustion, so I decide on a plan. “Well, you can stay here tonight and go down to the office in the morning. I'll get some blankets and a pillow for the couch.”

“Thanks.” She gives me a small smile of gratitude. I'm not sure why. I could have offered her my bed, but the hell with that. I don't sleep much, but when I do, I prefer for it to happen in my own bed.

After searching my hall closet, I find what I need. The least I can do is make the makeshift bed for her. As I start laying a sheet over the couch, the muscles in my back twitch and it feels like she's watching me. Sure enough, when I glance over, her eyes are on me.

“I can do that,” she offers.

“About done now.” I toss the pillow at one end and throw the blanket on the couch. No need to fix that when she's about to crawl under it. “There you go.”

Olivia nods. “Thanks, Corey.”

I nod, wishing she would stop saying that. As if a Mountain Dew and a couch to sleep on is me going above and beyond for her. Nope. I'm doing minimal work here and it's nothing to be so thankful about. Without another word, I go back down the hallway to my bedroom.

MY EYES BURN from being open for so long. I blink rapidly a few times to ease the annoyance. No sleep. At all. I've been staring at my ceiling since I laid down. My body feels weak and I'm tired. So, so tired, but sleep isn't coming. Sunlight has already started to stream in through my open blinds.

The door to my room creaks open. I turn my head to see Olivia stick her head inside.

“Hey, you're up already.” She gives me a small smile.

“That would require me falling asleep first, but yeah.” Reluctantly, I push myself up on my elbows, noting her smile has transformed into a frown. I don't need sympathy. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I wanted to let you know I'm leaving and to thank you again for letting me stay.” I don't say anything back. What's there to say? See you around? Hope not. Have a good day? Not a chance in hell. “Well, I'll see you around, Corey.” Olivia pauses for a moment, probably waiting for a response. When she doesn't get one, she leaves.

The moment she closes my door, I lie back down and and resume staring at the ceiling. I need sleep. No, what I need is football. This is fucking ridiculous. I shouldn't be in bed, fighting for a good night's rest. I shouldn't be struggling to see the goodness of the light of day. I should be on a football field, playing
my
game. I should still be an athlete.

But now?

I don't even know who I am anymore.

Corey Kennedy is nothing without “the football player” tagged onto the end. Anger pumps my veins and I reach for the Bourbon on my nightstand. Only the shit's empty because I drank it last night while I fought for some peace from a good night's slumber. In one quick motion, I throw the son-of-a-bitch across the room. It hits my dresser and shatters on impact. Breaking stuff doesn't make me feel any better, even though that's what I keep doing. I should stop because I have to clean the crap up, but there's a tiny part of me that feels relieved because something else is broken too.

Just like I am.

My door swings open and Olivia's eyes are wide. What is she doing back in here? I stare at her with a blank expression while she glances down to see the broken glass and then back up to me.

“I heard it on my way out and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Do I look okay to you?” I snap. What does this girl want? “I can take care of myself just fine.”

Her eyes narrow and there's a blazing fire within them. “You don't look okay. You look hurt, lost, and...” She pauses, suddenly unsure of herself. “Broken,” she finishes, her gaze dropping to the glass scattered on the floor. My chest constricts. She sees it. She
knows
. Maybe she doesn't know the details, but she can see that I'm not even half the person I was before I lost football, before the title of an athlete was taken from me forever. If a stranger, a girl I've known not even twelve hours, can see that, then what do my siblings see? A pathetic excuse for the brother they once had?

My features harden. “Get the fuck out.”

Olivia blinks, dumbfounded, as if she can't believe either what she said, what I said, or both. She nods and closes the door. Her footsteps are soft as she hurries out.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Olivia.

AFTER A WHILE, I clean up the glass and change to go buy a new phone and stock up on more alcohol. The sun seems too bright and I wish it was cloudy. It seems more fitting that way. Of course, I get a new employee who is in training still and it takes forever to get my phone. My leg bounces or my foot taps the entire time. Keeping my temper in check ends up being emotionally and physically taxing.

Why do I keep being handed shitty hands?

My parents were murdered with my baby sister in the house when I was a kid. I grew up faster than normal kids because even though my grandparents took us in, my brothers and sister looked up to me; and I was in charge. They wanted me to protect them, stand up for them, and for me to try to be half the man my father was.

My grandparents had a handful with four young kids, all roughly one year apart, so I had to sometimes step out of the brother role and into a more fatherly one to keep my brothers in line. Lucy had enough issues for a while, but once she was able to manage them, she was never a troublemaker. I've had to always do my best so I wouldn't let them down. Yet I still manage to find a way to do that.

Football was my saving grace, my one constant through it all to keep my sanity in place, and now, it's gone too. I don't have a place where I feel at home. I don't have a place where I can remember my parents. I can't be reassured by the weight of pads on my shoulders and a helmet on my head. My one and only dream, lit by my parents, has been demolished. My father would understand that I can't do it now, I know, but it doesn't feel any better that I can't live the life he pictured for me.

Who is Corey Kennedy? I don't know, because my life revolved around football. My focus was on it 24/7, one hundred percent of the time. I skipped parties, instead studying and doing homework to stay on top of my grades. My friends were my teammates. I left them behind completely when I moved to get away from everyone. Rarely did I meet someone outside of that circle. Not only did I suffer from a career-ending injury, but now I'm pathetically friendless.